


What's Eating Sharon Raydor?

by CylonRaydor



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CylonRaydor/pseuds/CylonRaydor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title: What’s Eating Sharon Raydor? - Part 1/?<br/>Fandom: The Closer<br/>Pairing: Brenda/Sharon<br/>Rating: T for now. Overall... Probably something a little naughtier ;)<br/>Summary: When Sharon’s behavior starts to change, Brenda fears she may be losing the one person she can’t live without.<br/>Disclaimer: I don’t own Brenda, Sharon or The Closer, and I won’t be making any money from this.</p><p>Author’s note: I wasn't sure about posting this. I’m still not sure, to be honest. I’ve loved and admired much of the Brenda/Sharon fic that’s out there, and decided I’d be brave because we all have to start somewhere. I get the feeling I’m trying to cram too much in at once, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Feedback is love. Constructive criticism is welcome. I'll be cross-posting this, to get feedback and see if it's worth continuing. Here goes nothing!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: What’s Eating Sharon Raydor? - Part 1/?  
> Fandom: The Closer  
> Pairing: Brenda/Sharon  
> Rating: T for now. Overall... Probably something a little naughtier ;)  
> Summary: When Sharon’s behavior starts to change, Brenda fears she may be losing the one person she can’t live without.  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Brenda, Sharon or The Closer, and I won’t be making any money from this.
> 
> Author’s note: I wasn't sure about posting this. I’m still not sure, to be honest. I’ve loved and admired much of the Brenda/Sharon fic that’s out there, and decided I’d be brave because we all have to start somewhere. I get the feeling I’m trying to cram too much in at once, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Feedback is love. Constructive criticism is welcome. I'll be cross-posting this, to get feedback and see if it's worth continuing. Here goes nothing!

Brenda Leigh Johnson had never been confident in social situations. Part of it, she was sure, was something innate. It was entirely possible that Brenda was always going to be socially awkward, regardless of her upbringing. Nature over nurture. The rest, she suspected, was the product of being a military brat and moving from place to place, never really settling into friendships. Brenda learned early on that it was much easier to deal with her Daddy’s PCS orders when she didn’t have the additional complication of leaving behind friends.

She had moved around through her adult life, as well. Although she had always used work as an excuse, there was really no reason why she couldn’t have worked happily and been very successful staying in one spot. She had never had the desire to stay somewhere, to settle in one place... Until she met Sharon Raydor.

Brenda and Sharon were curled up at opposite ends of the three seater couch; Sharon reading The Orphan Master’s Son and Brenda working. The blonde woman glanced up, sneaking a look at her lover sitting on the other end of the couch. The two of them had started as rivals at work and things had evolved, first to colleagues who had a mutual knowledge of their dislike for other, then to two people who respected each other. Eventually they became friends, and friends had turned into so much more than either of them could ever have imagined. Several years on, and for the first time in her life Brenda had willingly put down roots and was not going anywhere. Rather than feeling suffocated or held back, she felt like she was finally free. She wasn’t running from something or chasing anything. She had finally found what she was looking for.

Sharon was amazing. She was beautiful, strong, smart, sexy, caring... She challenged Brenda in ways that excited her, and made her a better person. She knew Brenda, warts and all, and she loved Brenda regardless. Sharon radiated a confidence that Brenda found equal parts comforting and arousing. With Sharon she had someone who could protect her one minute; be it from frivolous lawsuits or gun-toting gangbangers, and the next minute could turn around and challenge her like no one else had, be it physically, emotionally or intellectually.

Tonight, though, Sharon looked... small. Brenda had noticed changes in Sharon lately; a light that used to be in her eyes was missing. She was becoming withdrawn, quiet, and distancing herself physically from Brenda. Brenda couldn't help but worry that she had done something wrong, or that maybe- and this was her biggest fear- that Sharon was falling out of love with her. She had already had two failed marriages, and while they couldn't be legally wed, she considered Sharon her wife in every way.

Brenda reached out and gently took one of Sharon’s ankles, carefully pulling her foot into her lap and running her hand over the top of the older woman’s foot, her finger delicately tracing over the little freckle on her second toe. She moved her hand around, cupping Sharon’s foot and gently squeezing before she began rubbing soothingly, gazing adoringly at the woman she considered the love of her life. Sharon looked just as beautiful in the soft glow of the lamp next to the couch, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and all of her makeup removed, as she did when she was the highly polished walking rulebook known as Captain Raydor. Brenda’s lips quirked into a smile at the thought.

Not fifteen seconds into the foot rub- which had failed to earn her even a glance from Sharon- Brenda moved her hands to her lover’s ankle, only to have the brunette withdraw her foot and tuck it under herself. The younger woman didn’t bother to hide her hurt frown; Sharon wasn’t looking at her to see it anyway. She reached up and pulled the blanket down from the back of the couch, wrapping it around herself and staring out of the glass doors of the condo they shared into the darkness. There was definitely something wrong with her Sharon.

Maybe Sharon was sick, Brenda thought, swallowing hard. She didn't know how she would deal with something bad happening to her. Would Sharon tell her if she was unwell? Sharon hadn't mentioned a doctor's appointment, although she was certainly showing less interest in food than she used to, with the exception of the occasional evening where she would abscond with Brenda's ice cream and a spoon, the empty Ben & Jerry's container turning up the next morning at the bottom of the trash in whatever room Sharon happened to have consumed it. Yes, it was a little out of character, but Brenda could hardly deny her the occasional binge when she had such a sweet tooth herself.

Brenda racked her brain, trying to think of any other changes she had noticed in her lover lately. Truth be told, Sharon hadn't been her 'lover' lately at all. She had been her partner, her friend, and her colleague, and they shared a condo and a bed, but they had not made love in quite some time. The usually amorous blonde had certainly noticed that. She tried to reason that that was natural in relationships. Everyone went through slumps, didn't they? It had never been a problem for them in the past; they hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other since the night they first kissed several years ago, and now? Brenda took a moment and counted back. Surely not! "Six weeks?!" she said out loud, causing Sharon to jump a little and look up at her.

"Hmm?" the brunette asked, turning her attention to Brenda. "What's six weeks?" she asks her.

Brenda shook her head, still trying to process everything. "Nothin'," she mumbled, brushing it off. She couldn't believe it had been that long and she was only just realizing the exact length of time since they were last physically intimate. She had been working hard, of course. That usually put a bit of a damper on things, but they were both quite adept at arranging a quickie to help them relax and reconnect. Sharon had seemed disinterested in it, which Brenda had chalked up to the Captain's schedule being as hectic as her own, but six whole weeks was a serious issue in Brenda's opinion. Maybe not on its own, but paired with her recent changes in behavior Brenda was more convinced than ever that there was something going on.

She knew, for her part, she had been neglectful by letting things go on for this long. How could she not have dealt with this earlier? She knew how. Her first marriage, to Rick, had been explosive from day one. She was on the rebound from Will and seeking validation. She hadn’t been ‘enough’ for Will to want to leave his wife, and truth be told she was glad she hadn’t ended up being a home wrecker, but she had wanted to know she was enough for someone. Rick had come along at exactly the right moment. Rick had wanted her, and the passion they shared in the bedroom had easily spilled into other areas of their lives. Rick was the jealous type, and prone to outbursts. Every little thing between them led to a fight, and in the end neither of them could be in the same room as the other without it ending up in a screaming contest. Their divorce had been bitter, the fighting continuing to the day they finally signed the final papers, and she still carried the emotional scars.

Three years later Brenda thought she had learned from her previous relationship when she crossed paths with her friend Fritz again. At first they were just old friends catching up and she was hesitant to get into anything too serious, but he had been sweet, and patient, and she was only human... Their relationship evolved slowly and she was determined that she would not repeat the mistakes of her past. Rather than fighting with Fritz, Brenda had avoided issues. Serious conversations were always initiated by him, usually in response to a 'final straw' act on her behalf, when something she had done had him unable to avoid the conflict any longer. Given he was ex-husband number two, Brenda had learned that conflict avoidance clearly wasn’t the way to go either. With Sharon, Brenda needed to find a middle ground, but she was still unsure of where that was, and terrified of repeating the behaviors that had led to the demise of her relationships and losing the one person she had ever felt she truly could not live without. While she had largely managed to do that, Brenda still second guessed herself when it came to broaching bigger issues.

The blonde chewed her bottom lip anxiously. She knew was going to have to bring this up with Sharon but... how? How could she ask, when she didn't know what the problem might be? Of course they had talked over the past six weeks, and Brenda had asked about her day, and about Sharon’s children- children that had come to occasionally called her ‘Mama B’ with teasing affection. She asked about whether Sharon had picked up the dry cleaning, and if she wanted Brenda to get anything for her at the store. The conversation between them had been polite and friendly, but certainly not intimate in the way it usually was between them. The Deputy Chief glanced at her partner again and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, a sick feeling in her stomach as she started to wonder if she had realized her neglectful behavior too late.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references sex between two women. If reading about that isn't your thing you can safely skip the third paragraph and read on without it affecting your understanding the story.

“I’m going to bed,” Sharon informs Brenda a little while later, raising up slowly and flexing her ankle where her foot had been cramped up underneath her. She winces a little then sighs heavily.  
  
Brenda looks up at Sharon, wondering if avoiding being touched by her was really worth the older woman having pain in her ankle, especially when she spent so much time in those expensive heels of hers. “You look tired,” she says sympathetically as she stands at Sharon’s side and wraps her arms around the brunette gently, kissing her shoulder.  
  
The kiss earns her a low hum of agreement from Sharon and Brenda shivers lightly at the sound. She had always loved the rich smoothness of Sharon’s voice and its ability to soothe or arouse, depending on the occasion. When Brenda had had a particularly hard day, it wasn’t unheard of for Sharon to use it for both simultaneously. The brunette would undress her slowly, murmuring soothing words in her ear to accompany gentle touches and kisses. She played her body perfectly, watching her reactions so she could give Brenda whatever she needed to leave the day behind her. It was always Sharon’s voice that made the difference on those days, though. Murmurs of ‘honey’, ‘baby’ and ‘beautiful’ were mixed in with ‘I love you’ and pleas for Brenda to relax as she worked up to encouraging the younger woman to let go for her. Always ‘for her’.  _“That’s it, baby,”_ she’d murmur as Brenda got closer to the edge. _“Come on. Let go for me, beautiful...”._  Brenda always did.  
  
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” The blonde asks after a moment, looking into Sharon’s green eyes with her own dark brown ones, wide and completely unguarded.  
  
“No, I don’t think you have,” Sharon muses quietly as she turns her head to face the front again, and Brenda feels the sick feeling that had entered her stomach earlier settle, her face burning with shame at the thought that she may have let days go by without providing Sharon with reassurance that she was loved beyond words.  
  
“I do,” the younger woman tells her softly but surely, studying her profile. She licks her lips slightly, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. “More than anythin’ else in this world, Sharon Raydor,” she murmurs, Sharon’s name falling almost reverently from her lips. “Even when I’m busy or stressed or cranky, or I’m mad at you, I love you. You mean the world to me.”  
  
Sharon tenses a little and turns her head away further. “I love you too,” she tells Brenda, her voice tired and tinged with sadness.  
  
Brenda frowns, not wanting Sharon to continue to shut her out. The way Sharon looks away from her makes Brenda feel like she’s being lied to, and that hurts. It also means she  _knows_ that Sharon is hiding something from her now. “Sharon? Look at me?” she requests, rubbing her back soothingly. Maybe now is the time to just come out and ask her what’s wrong. She’s worked out there’s a problem, and perhaps it’s best to just nip it in the bud.  
  
Sharon’s posture shifts a little and she blinks a few times before looking at Brenda, doing her best not to look like she’s going to cry.  
  
Brenda takes in Sharon’s face. The dark circles under her eyes showing her tiredness, the straight line of her firmly set lips, and the slightly wavering gaze of her watery green eyes. She can’t stand seeing Sharon hurting like this. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Brenda asks carefully, her hand continuing to rub comforting circles between Sharon’s shoulder blades. ‘ _At least she hasn’t pulled away yet_ ,’ the blonde thinks.  
  
“I’m just tired. I’ll be fine,” Sharon tells her as convincingly as she can. The brunette straightens up completely and pulls away.  
  
 _‘Spoke too soon...’_ Brenda frowns inwardly.  
  
“Bed time,” the older woman announces decisively as she walks off in the direction of their bedroom before Brenda can turn the question into a conversation.  
  
Brenda almost groans when Sharon walks away from her. She considers probing further as she turns off the lights and follows Sharon into the bedroom. She wants to. She wants to know what has her lover so upset, and what’s going on between them, but Brenda isn’t sure if now is the right time to push the issue. Sharon is clearly tired, and the way her shoulders were set as she walked off, Brenda knows she’s made up her mind to shut her out, and she isn’t sure she can break through Sharon’s defences at the moment. The irony isn’t lost on her, that someone who is fluent in three languages and fully conversant in a fourth, could be so poor at communicating.  
  
A few tense, sleepless hours later, Brenda sneaks out of bed and into the living room. There’s no use laying there worrying when she could be doing something about solving the mystery. She does, after all, have a whole career as an investigator to fall back on. She settles on the sofa, turning on the lamps again and taking out her phone to looks at the calendar Sharon shares with her. It had taken her a long time to get used to using the technology, but Sharon had been patient with teaching her and she did enjoy being able to see what each of their schedules were like and when they could arrange to do things together.  
  
“Work... work... work...” Brenda mutters to herself as she flicks through Sharon’s schedule. “Dentist. Yuck... Work... Blank? Musta forgotten to label that one,” Brenda shrugs and keeps flicking through, finding mostly work, with the occasional evening drinks with the squad (most of which Brenda had attended), her Monday morning swimming group and another two daytime appointments Sharon had forgotten to label over the course of the last month. The blonde sighs and sets her phone aside, resting her head against the back of the couch. ‘ _No doctor’s appointments. That’s good, I guess... I know she’s still swimming. If she was really sick she’d stop. Wouldn’t she?’_ Brenda sits up again and retrieves her phone, stretching out on the couch.  
  
“Okay, how do I... Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she sighs, standing up and going to retrieve her laptop. She lays down again and pulls up ‘the google machine’, trying to remember how Tao had showed her how to go onto WebMD. After a little confusion she manages to get to the website and determine where to enter Sharon’s symptoms. She enters Sharon’s gender and age, then goes through the process of entering her symptoms. She chooses ‘decreased appetite’ and ‘moderate fatigue’ before looking further. ‘ _Hot flashes? No, just hot,_ ’ she muses as she keeps reading. ‘ _Low self-esteem? Maybe... Why isn’t there a maybe column?_ ’ she pouts as she ignores it and keeps going. She adds ‘restlessness or irritability’ and ‘socially withdrawn’ to the list and gives up trying to work out how to add ‘decreased sex drive’.  
  
Scrolling through the list, the first option is adult depression, which Brenda reads about briefly. The symptoms certainly sound right, but she isn’t sure she’s ready to admit that that’s what’s wrong with Sharon yet. Sleep deprivation is a definite possibility, but she giggles and overlooks mono, which is third on the list.  
  
By the end of her research Brenda doesn’t particularly like what she’s found, but she feels equipped now to at least be on the lookout for things so she can get Sharon professional help if she thinks she needs it. The brunette sets her laptop aside and closes her eyes to consider how best to proceed. Before she knows it she’s fast asleep.  
  
When Sharon wakes up at 5.30 the next morning she rolls over and reaches out for Brenda, finding the blonde’s side of the bed cold. Pulling herself out of bed, she pads into the living room and spots her girlfriend, asleep on the couch with her glasses on. She knows she has been distant lately, but she can’t help feeling hurt that the younger woman hadn’t stayed in their bed. Wasn’t Brenda supposed to stick by her even when things were tough? Sharon certainly feels like she needs Brenda by her side now more than ever. She reaches down and carefully removes the glasses from her sleeping girlfriend, brushing her hair off her face and kissing the top of her head lightly before going to get ready for work. She carries her shoes on the way out so the sound of heels on the hardwood floors doesn’t wake Brenda, closing the door lightly behind her.  
  
When Brenda wakes half an hour later she grumbles and rubs her eyes, her whole body protesting the night she spent on the uncomfortable couch. She ignores her glasses and trudges into the kitchen for coffee, squirting a generous helping of honey from her little bear into the mug and stirring it pensively. She knows she can’t magically fix things before work, but that doesn’t mean she can’t make an effort to help Sharon have a nice start to her day. It’s rare for her to be awake this early, and she knows she’s beat Sharon’s morning alarm, which is even more unheard of.  
  
The blonde moves through the kitchen quietly, getting out a tray and loading it up with coffee, toast, and scrambled eggs that she manages to only overcook slightly. Reasonably satisfied, she picks up the tray and carefully carries it to the bedroom, nudging the door open with her foot.  
  
“Mornin’ gorgeous,” she purrs, smiling proudly at her efforts as she steps into the room. She balances the tray and adjusts the dimmer so she can turn the light on softly, her smile quickly disappearing when she finds the bed empty and perfectly made. “Ooooh!” she whines, stomping her bare foot gently. “That  _woman_!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to madampresident (LJ) for her ongoing encouragement. This chapter is a little longer and contains spoilers for The Closer 7x19- Last Rites. 
> 
> Dialogue-heavy writing has never really been my strong suit, so hopefully this is OK.

Brenda doesn’t like secrets. She hates the feeling she gets when she can’t solve a murder, or she doesn’t have every piece of the puzzle. She hates that Will hid he was married and that her first husband hid his jealous streak. She really hates that Fritz hid his drinking and the fact that he was offered a promotion; both of which, ironically, she had to find out from Will.   
  
“Shar?” the blonde asks at dinner that night. She’s halfway through her ratatouille when she decides it’s a good time to try to talk to her again about what’s going on.   
  
“Yes, Brenda?” the brunette replies, looking up from her meal.   
  
“I missed you this mornin’,” the younger woman says sweetly, spearing some tomato and putting it into her mouth. She chews slowly, savouring it. Sharon really is a wonderful cook.  
  
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to sleep on the couch,” Sharon retorts, either doing a poor job of concealing her irritation or not bothering to hide it; Brenda isn’t sure which.   
  
Her girlfriend leaving their bed the night before has Sharon a little on edge. Everyone has a point where they’ve taken all they can of their partner’s issues, and she’s concerned that perhaps she’s found Brenda’s much earlier than she expected. Regardless of what’s going on with her, she reminds herself she resolved at work that day to make an effort with Brenda, and her tone wasn’t reflective of that effort.   
  
“I couldn’t sleep so I got up to read so the light wouldn’t wake you,” Brenda explains, a little defensive. It’s not technically a lie. She  _couldn’t_ sleep and she  _did_ get up to read. She just didn’t reveal exactly  _why_ she couldn’t sleep or  _what_ she was reading.  
  
“Apparently you  _could_  sleep,” Sharon points out, eating a little more of her own dinner, toning down the attitude a little this time. Being nasty is not going to help.  
  
“Yeah, ‘parently so... I’m real sorry. I don’t like not seein’ you off to work, and I hate wakin’ up not next to you. I thought I got up in time and I made you breakfast in bed but you’d already gone,” Brenda tells her sadly, shifting her dinner around on her plate with her fork.  
  
“Eggs?” Sharon guesses.  
  
“How’d you know?” Brenda asks, raising an eyebrow. Sure, there isn’t an awful lot she can cook, but Sharon could have just as easily guessed cereal or toast or pop tarts... Not that she cooks pop tarts for Sharon, they’re definitely more Brenda’s cup of tea.  
  
“The pan’s still in the sink.”  
  
 _‘Oh...’_ Brenda thinks.  _‘The curses of being in a relationship with a detective...Why’s she gotta be so observant?’_  
  
“I’m sorry. I was gonna get around to it...” She really was going to, she just got distracted. Fritz had lectured her about leaving dirty dishes a million times, and with Sharon she genuinely does try to make an effort.  
  
“It’s just a pan, Brenda. It’s okay,” she assures her. She knows Brenda worries about upsetting her with her untidiness; Fritz had been quite cruel about it towards the end of their relationship, and it’s something they’ve discussed multiple times. Brenda always apologizes profusely and Sharon assures her time and time again that as long as she makes an effort it’s okay.   
  
‘ _Nobody is perfect,’_ she always tells her. ‘ _But you’re perfect for me.’_    
  
Sharon reaches out and touches her girlfriend’s hand. “I’m not going to get upset with you. You tried to do something nice for me and I appreciate it,” she smiles, stroking the soft skin lightly, hoping to soothe her.  
  
Brenda looks visibly relieved as she turns her hand palm-up to stroke Sharon’s hand back. They sit like that for a moment, Sharon allowing Brenda to relax a little and Brenda reminding herself that Sharon isn’t Fritz. This isn’t going to be thrown back in her face later, and one dirty pan isn’t going to lead to an all-out brawl.  
  
Sharon watches Brenda carefully. “Come here,” she tells her, shifting her chair out and patting her lap. Brenda hesitates but rounds the table and carefully sets herself sideways on Sharon’s thighs, leaning into her as Sharon wraps both arms around her. “I know this is still hard for you sometimes, but I’m not going anywhere, especially not over something so trivial.”  
  
Brenda nods a little and closes her eyes, revelling in the feeling of being held by Sharon again. She’s warm and strong and soft in all the right places, and nothing makes Brenda feel more at peace than being in her arms. “I’m not goin’ anywhere either,” the blone murmurs, turning to hide her face against Sharon’s neck.   
  
Sharon stiffens a little at the words and Brenda feels her start to change again, the tension creeping back into her body and her pulse picking up again. The blonde stays completely still, waiting to see how Sharon reacts. She hears the older woman take a slightly shaky breath and then feels her nod her head.  
  
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Brenda offers after sitting in silence for a little while, shifting back enough for her to look Sharon directly in the eyes. She’s concerned she’s going to blow this and Sharon’s going to go back to being cold towards her; it feels good to have Sharon smiling at her and touching her again, even in the most innocent of ways, and Brenda doesn’t want to lose it.  
  
“I’m talking to you right now,” Sharon points out, tilting her head to the side slightly.  
  
“I know, it’s just I was thinkin’ things have been a little hinky lately and maybe there was someth-“ Brenda is cut off by the sound of the phone ringing and she has to stop herself from groaning out loud. Since she’s moved to the DA’s office her hours are more or less ‘normal’, so she knows it’s Sharon’s. This is almost as bad as being interrupted during an interrogation- not that that’s how she sees the conversation they were about to have.  
  
 _‘This close... I was this close.’_  
  
Sharon pats Brenda’s leg gently and waits for her to move before she stands up, smiling apologetically as she gets up to retrieve her phone. “Captain Raydor...” she starts, tucking her hair behind the ear that’s not occupied by the phone. “Yes, Lieutenant. Yes.... I see. How many bodies?” she enquires calmly. “No, I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she informs the caller before hanging up.  
  
“You got a case?” Brenda enquires, looking up at her a little sadly. Since Willie Rae’s unexpected death Brenda has been wary of leaving conversations incomplete and things left unsaid. Not sparing that one minute for her Mama is Brenda’s single biggest regret; she will never know what Willie Rae was going to tell her, and her mother’s last memory of her was Brenda telling her she just didn’t have time.  
  
Sharon nods. “Multiple bodies in a drive-by,” she informs her as she swaps her cardigan for the blazer she had been wearing earlier. “It’s going to be a late one, don’t wait up,” she adds before heading back to the table and kissing Brenda’s forehead.  
  
“Hey,” Brenda pouts, gently taking hold of Sharon’s wrist. “That’s not a proper kiss goodbye. Especially when I’m probably not gonna see you again ‘til tomorrow night.”  
  
Sharon smiles a little at how cute Brenda can be and turns back, leaning in and pressing soft lips lingeringly to her lover’s.   
  
“Much better,” the blonde smiles, letting her hand fall from Sharon’s wrist to her fingertips. “Be safe.”  
  
“I will,” Sharon assures her, pulling her hair out from under the neck of the cardigan. “Sleep well.”  
  
Brenda nods and sighs, watching as Sharon picks up her bag and leaves. She can’t believe she missed an opportunity to have the conversation, but she’s glad that some of the ‘old’ Sharon seems to be making a comeback. What still bothers her is the way Sharon reacted to Brenda saying she wasn’t going to leave her. The younger woman isn’t sure what to make of that; she certainly doesn’t feel like she’s given Sharon any indication that she’s anything other than completely committed to her.  
  
Brenda sits down and finishes her dinner slowly before she fixes up the dishes- the pan from the eggs included- loading up the dishwasher and setting it to start. Looking around the condo briefly she decides it’s time she calls her father. Maybe he’ll have some advice; after all, he had been married to her Mama for fifty years. Surely the man knew  _something_ about keeping a relationship together.  
  
She picks up the phone and dials Clay’s number, settling in on the couch again and stretching out. A few seconds later hears the older Johnson pick up the phone and the sounds of the Daniel Boone theme song being turned down and fading out- he never did use the mute button on the television.   
  
“Johnson residence,” he drawls into the phone.  
  
“Hi Daddy, it’s me,” Brenda smiles.  
  
“Brenda Leigh! How’s my favourite daughter?”  
  
Brenda laughs. Given she’s the only girl in a family of boys that’s really not much of an achievement, but Clay often says it anyway. “Yep, it’s me... How’ve you been? Are you keepin’ well?”  
  
Clay nods, despite Brenda’s inability to see him. “Charlene’s got me set up with one of those TiVo thingies. All she’s recorded though are those ridiculous reality TV programs. Never in all my life have I seen such garbage. Idiots on an Island, people who can’t sing a lick, grown men puttin’ fireworks in cakes. They’re a bunch of crazies, ‘cept them Duck Dynasty fellahs. Now there are some proper men.”  
  
Brenda raises an eyebrow. “That’s good, Daddy,” she says hesitantly, really not sure what’s going on. Clay with TiVo? Watching reality shows?  
  
“How are things with you?” Clay enquires, smoothing his moustache. “Still workin’ a million hours a week?”  
  
“No. No, daddy, I’m not workin’ so much these days. Just normal work times. Things are alright,” she says delicately.  
  
“Just alright? What’s goin’ on? Do you need money?”   
  
“No! No, daddy, nothing like that,” Brenda assures him quickly. “I just... Sharon’s not actin’ like herself lately and I’m starting to worry about her.”  
  
“Did you ask her what’s wrong?” Clay suggests, starting with the obvious. As much as he loves his daughter she’s never really been known for doing well in social situations.  
  
“I tried. She won’t talk to me. I got close today, but they she got called back into work... I’m starting to realize what Fritz put up with for all those years.”  
  
“That man was a damn fool, lettin’ my little girl go,” Clay tells her, shaking it off. “Don’t pay him no mind. As for your Sharon... The way I see it, Brenda Leigh, it’s like this. The two of you have got yourselves one of those... Lesbian relationships. Now, you’re the young one and you’re always wearin’ dresses. I figure that makes you the lady and Sharon the man, and sometimes men just don’t wanna talk about...  _feelin’s_  and whatnot,” he says, and Brenda can hear the way he must be scrunching his nose up at the word ‘feelings’.  
  
“Daddy!” Brenda sighs exasperatedly. “How many times have we been through this? There  _is_ no man. Asking which one of us is the man is like asking which chopstick is the fork.”  
  
“Now Brenda Leigh, you know I can’t use those oriental eatin’ thingies,” he grumbles, examining the remote control to try and find the pause button Charlene had told him about. Talking to Brenda is more important, but Daniel Boone looks like he’s about to get into an interesting situation.  
  
Brenda pinches the bridge of her nose. “Yes, I’m sorry daddy, you’re right,” she agrees before he can go any further, although she is not sorry and she’s sure he’s not right. “I’m just worried about her.”  
  
“Maybe she’ll tell you in her own time,” Clay suggests. “Or maybe you’re just makin’ a mountain out of a molehill.”  
  
“Maybe,” Brenda agrees sadly. “I wish Mama was still here...” Willie Rae would know what to do. She always knew what to do.  
  
“I wish she was too, Brenda Leigh.”  
  
“I know, daddy,” Brenda replies softly. They both sit there for a few long moments, silence lingering between them as they think about their late wife and mother.   
  
“I really don’t know what to do about Sharon. She’s barely talkin’ to me, and she doesn’t even wanna snuggle,” Brenda eventually offers. “Well, she did tonight, but that’s the first time in ages and then she started actin’ all weird again.”  
  
Clay closes his eyes. It had taken him a while to come to terms with Brenda’s sexuality, and he still prefers not to think about it in too much detail. She’s happy, and Sharon is a nice lady. That’s the main thing. “That’s not normally a good sign,” the older Johnson agrees. “I don’t know what to tell you though, pumpkin. When it came to me, your Mama wasn’t one for keeping her thoughts and opinions to herself.  
  
Brenda laughs quietly. Willie Rae had lovely Southern manners, but she never did hold back with her husband, to the frequent amusement of Brenda and her brothers growing up. “That’s true,” Brenda agrees. “I’ll see how she is when she gets home from work and has had some sleep. She’ll prob’ly be tired tomorrow.”  
  
“Alright. You let me know how you go,” Clay instructs Brenda. His daughter really hasn’t had much luck with long-term relationships and he’s not sure how many more times he can handle seeing her hurt.  
  
“I will. I should let you go, it’s gettin’ late there,” she realizes as she glances at the clock on the DVR.   
  
“Alright. You call if you need anything,” Clay agrees slowly, locating and pressing the ‘off’ button for the TV. Watching reruns can wait.  
  
Brenda shifts her glasses up around her forehead then rubs her eyes while they say their goodnights and hang up. Things are, at least, looking up a little. She’ll try again with Sharon tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to madampresident (LJ) for being available to bounce ideas off, and to those of you who have commented or sent me messages about Chapter 3. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> This chapter is going to take you on a bit of a ride, but I hope it’s not too slow-moving in parts. I had originally intended to finish it over the weekend but it was invading my thoughts and distracting me from working so here you have it. I'm quite proud of myself for sticking to my weekly updates! I think the response to this chapter might be... interesting.

The following Saturday Brenda finds herself at a loose end. Things with Sharon have been in stasis since her failed attempt to discuss the issue that has been so obviously weighing on Sharon’s mind and placing a strain on their relationship. Sharon has been spending long hours at the office and Brenda has been doing her best to be supportive and ensure her girlfriend has as few things to worry about outside of work as possible.  
  
The condo is clean (enough), and tidy (enough). Dinner is always waiting for Sharon when she gets home (even if it’s take out), and despite running out of milk for Sharon’s cereal one morning (Brenda went out and bought some while the brunette showered) and forgetting their dry cleaning one afternoon, Brenda is quite proud of her efforts to make things as easy as she can for Sharon. She feels like she has grown a lot as a person; her reduced work schedule helps, but she attributes most of it to learning form past mistakes and the strength of her desire to make things with Sharon work. While Fritz had often questioned her priorities, Brenda does what she can to make it blatantly obvious to Sharon that work comes a distant second to the brunette. She has come to realise that her job won’t keep her warm at night, and being happy and fulfilled in other areas of her life actually makes her more productive at work.  
  
Brenda thinks back over the past week as she wipes down the kitchen table. Sharon has been home for dinner as often as possible, and the conversation has been flowing more easily than it had been prior to the night they almost discussed her problem. Brenda hasn’t broached the subject again as she hasn’t wanted to put any additional stress on her girlfriend while she’s clearly tired and overworked. Sharon, for her part, generally starts the ball rolling with talk about her latest case or Brenda’s, and things progress with fairly neutral topics of conversation. Discussion about the future, however, has been off limits. When Brenda raised the topic of their plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas, Sharon had told her she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do about them yet and promptly changed the subject. Brenda let it slide. When Brenda brought up the possibility of going on vacation, Sharon told her she’d need time to think about it, and the blonde didn’t press. Sharon does, after all, have a lot on her mind. As she puts the table runner back in place Brenda squashes the niggling feeling that she should be concerned about Sharon avoiding making plans, and thinks that things really could be much worse.  
  
With a clean condo and a fully-stocked fridge Brenda feels like she has earned a little down time, but she can’t help but feel bored. Sharon had left at 8 that morning, and while during the week Brenda has work to keep her from missing her girlfriend, weekends are more of a challenge. After wandering from room to room aimlessly for a little while Brenda decides she needs to get out of the condo. She picks up her bag and her sunglasses and heads downtown, intent on browsing through the foreign-language bookshop one of her co-workers had told her about.  
  
On the way back to her car from the bookshop, two new Russian novels in hand, Brenda passes a Starbucks and decides she’ll surprise Sharon. The brunette has been working a lot, and Brenda is sure that coffee and a scone would be appreciated. She doubts Sharon will have time to sit down and chat, but it can’t hurt to drop the snack off. Maybe, if she’s lucky, she’ll get to see Sharon conducting an interview. Once the initial jealousy about Sharon taking over her squad dissipated Brenda grew to enjoy watching her girlfriend lead her old team (after all, what could be sexier than Captain Raydor in action?).  
  
A short time later Brenda clips into the LAPD offices, a paper bag containing two scones in one hand and a tray containing a coffee for herself and one for Sharon in the other. She pauses in the doorway to the murder room, glancing around at the empty desks. Only Amy is sitting at her computer, reading through what looks like a cold case file. It’s certainly not what she expected to find on a weekend that had been busy enough to necessitate Sharon working.  
  
“Detective Sykes?” Brenda says hesitantly, watching as Amy looks up and spins around.  
  
“Chief Johnson! What a surprise!” the younger woman smiles.  
  
“Please, you can call me Brenda,” she tells her. “Is Cap’n Raydor around?”  
  
“No ma’am,” Amy informs her, raising to her feet and standing ‘at ease’, unable to turn her brown-noser persona off even though Brenda is no longer her superior officer. “The Captain hasn’t been in today. Was she expecting you?”  
  
“Oh...” Brenda replies, taken aback. “Oh. No, no, I just thought I’d pop in and say hello, see how y’all were doing.” She does her best to plaster on a friendly smile. Sharon definitely said she was going to work.  
  
“Just me here today,” Amy says. “I was actually wondering if the Captain was okay. All of her personal appointments and things lately, we were starting to think something might be wrong.”  
  
‘ _Personal appointments?’_ Brenda thinks. Before she can form a response, Amy continues.  
  
“Sorry, I’m probably overstepping. It’s just, leaving early and long lunches... It’s not like her. Not that I’m trying to say she’s not doing her job. I...”  
  
Brenda waves her hand, stopping the young detective. Trust Amy Sykes to say the wrong thing, and far too much of it. “You’re right, you probably are oversteppin’,” Brenda informs her. “Captain Raydor is a very private person, and I doubt she wants people standin’ around gossiping about her like a couple of housewives at a church picnic. I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were working on.”  
  
“Yes ma’am,” Amy nods, wondering how Brenda can sound so polite, even when she’s reprimanding her. She assumes it’s the accent. “It was a pleasure to see you ma’am.”  
  
“You too, detective. You too,” Brenda tells her. She turns and walks out of the murder room, hovering near the elevators. Brenda isn’t a fool, and she certainly doesn’t appreciate being lied to by Sharon. She doesn’t think she is an unreasonable person and she can’t imagine what would make Sharon think she had to hide her actions from her. She understands the desire for a level of space and privacy in a relationship but Brenda feels like blatantly lying to her is a step too far, especially since she’s been bending over backwards to be supportive and accommodating.  
  
Brenda leans against the wall then slides down it so she is sitting on the floor next to the elevator. She fishes into the bag and pulls out one of the scones, biting into it with a huff. She wonders how many times she has waited up for Sharon over the past month or two, how many lunches they’ve missed together and how many phone calls have gone unreturned when Sharon wasn’t  _really_ working. She isn’t sure if she’s more mad or hurt. Her first instinct is to call Sharon and confront her, but knowing her girlfriend she doesn’t think that’s the best way to approach this. She will take a few minutes then drive home and wait for Sharon. When she arrives they will have a calm, rational conversation like adults. Maybe there is a perfectly logical explanation for all of this. In the mean time, Brenda will eat.  
  
Two scones, her own iced vanilla latte with whipped cream, and half of Sharon’s coffee later Brenda hauls herself up off the floor and dumps her scraps in the trash can next to the elevator. She can’t remember the last time she stress ate, and her stomach is already launching a protest. She stabs at the button for the elevator impatiently with her index finger. She just wants to go home.  
  
By the time she navigates LA traffic and arrives at the condo Brenda is practically buzzing. She realizes now why Sharon swaps the blonde’s coffee for decaf when she’s stressed. Sharon tries to hide that she does it, but Brenda knows and lets it go because she’s always thought it’s sweet that Sharon looks out for her. Now, it’s just another lie that Sharon has told her, and it leaves her feeling every bit as bitter as she finds the decaf before she gets to it with her little bear full of honey.  
  
The blonde dumps her bag on the floor near the door somewhere, toes off her shoes in the hallway and paces back and forth in the living room, her mind and her heart racing. This isn’t her being sensitive now. Someone else has confirmed that Sharon is acting strangely, and that there is something wrong. Sharon has been lying to her about where she’s been going, and Brenda wants to know why. The anxious blonde continues to pace before sitting down at the kitchen table, wrapping an arm around herself and chewing her thumb nail while she fights an internal war about whether or not to start looking through Sharon’s things to try and work out what’s going on. It seems now that even if she does confront Sharon there is no guarantee she is going to get an honest answer.  
  
Ten jittery minutes later the last of Brenda’s self-control snaps; it’s not like she’s ever had a lot of it. She stands up, marching into the bedroom and pulls open the top drawer on Sharon’s tall boy. She makes her way from the top drawer to the bottom, rifling through Sharon’s underwear and clothes to no avail. After a brief pause to consider where to look next she checks the pockets on the clothes hanging on Sharon’s side of the closet; the older woman’s hands are in them so frequently that she inevitably ends up with stray items in there. Brenda strikes gold when she gets to Sharon’s purple blazer, pulling out a photograph of a young woman smiling on the beach. “Well, who are  _you_?” Brenda asks the photograph. She takes in the woman’s wide blue eyes and long blonde hair pulled back in a braid. ‘ _Could be someone from a case_ ,’ Brenda rationalizes. She puts the photograph back where she found it and searches through the rest of Sharon’s pockets.  
  
When Brenda finishes with the pockets she looks around the bedroom again and suddenly feels guilty. She’s never been the snooping type. If anything, she’s been too trusting and not enquired enough. This feels like she’s crossing a line. ‘ _I’m not looking anywhere she doesn’t let me look anyway...’_ the blonde rationalizes. Sharon’s drawers have always been ‘open’ to Brenda, and when Brenda takes clothing to the cleaners for Sharon she always checks the pockets first.  
  
Deciding the laundry basket is also fair game, Brenda heads into the bathroom and rifles through their clothes. She sets aside one of Sharon’s shirts for closer examination, taking it to the bathroom window so she can look at it in natural light. There is a red mark on the collar.  _‘Well, it’s not blood...’_ Brenda determines. When she sniffs it, the shirt smells like Sharon, although there’s an underlying sweetness to the scent that she doesn’t usually associate with her girlfriend. Hmm.  
  
 _‘This is still okay... If I was gonna wash this I’d look at a stain and work out what it was. How else am I s’posed to get it out?’_  
  
Brenda’s ability to rationalize even her worst behaviour is almost legendary. It has gotten her into trouble many times. In fact, if it wasn’t for that she probably never would have ended up with Sharon. Had Brenda not ‘just done what Terrell Baylor asked her to’ she and Sharon wouldn’t have grown closer over the case. Fritz wouldn’t have learned of all of the other times she had manipulated the rules to get the ‘justice’ she desired, and the rapid decline of their marriage may not have been set in motion. He had never looked at her the same after the court case. Of course, it wasn’t just bad behaviour at work that Brenda attempted to rationalize. She made excuses about the poor way she had treated her parents in the past ( _‘Of course the tour is in Chinese, Mama. That’s how you know it’s authentic!’_ ), for not selling her condo when she didn’t want to ( _‘I was gonna do it, I swear... I just got real busy!’_ ) and for why she continued to see Will after she found out he was married ( _‘Well I didn’t know when we started and then when I found out the horse had already bolted...’_ ). Until now, that had been in her past. It was the ‘old’ Brenda. The pre-Sharon Brenda. Apparently she is slipping back into some bad habits.  
  
Brenda walks into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine. The investigating she’s been doing so far she could still almost explain away as innocent. She knows, though, that she is walking a very fine line here. As she sits down with her merlot, she considers what she knows. First, Sharon has been quiet around her lately. Secondly, she has been off her food. Thirdly, she isn’t interested in sex. The fourth ‘piece of the puzzle’ is Sharon’s refusal to make future plans with Brenda. The blonde adds Sharon’s strange reaction to Brenda saying she won’t break up with her to the list. In court, DDA Hobbs would call it ‘Exhibit 4B’; it’s related, but not the same.  Sharon has been keeping strange hours at work and lying about her whereabouts- that’s the fifth thing Brenda needs to consider. The photograph and the mark on her shirt may or may not have anything to do with this, Brenda isn’t sure.  
  
As she weighs up what she knows Brenda doesn’t like any of it, or what it may be suggesting. Before she realizes she’s finished her glass and is back in the kitchen getting another. She considers bringing the bottle with her, but she doesn’t want to be drunk when she discusses this with Sharon. The brunette has an alcoholic ex-husband and Brenda would never put her in a situation where she has to relive what happened with Jack.  
  
Just as Brenda is about to sit down, she hears her phone go off from across the room. Sighing, she finds her bag on the floor and digs out her phone to read the text message, resting her bag against the wall. It’s from Sharon.  
  
 _‘Case is a little more complicated than I expected. Might not be home for dinner.’_  
  
Brenda sees red. Setting her glass down, she marches boldly into their study and opens the drawer to Sharon’s desk, rifling through her papers without guilt or hesitation. Ten minutes later she has found florist receipts (one per week for the last 7 weeks), an unknown number frequently popping up on Sharon’s phone bills, and the same number on a torn-off piece of notepad paper under the name ‘Donna’. She feels sick and dizzy and like she can’t breathe, but despite it all she refuses to believe that Sharon is cheating on her. Donna could be anyone. She could be an old friend Sharon bumped into. Maybe she’s a CI. A friend of a friend who’s a doctor?  
  
 _‘Why would you buy flowers for someone if they’re not for me?’_ Brenda wonders. She lays the receipts out in front of her and, after a few minutes, quickly gets out her laptop and goes to the American Ballet Theatre website. It would be perfectly logical for Sharon to send her daughter flowers on nights she was performing. In fact, Brenda had arranged to do that from both of them on opening night for the past two shows in which the younger of the Raydor women was a principal. She clicks the appropriate link and checks the dates on the company’s performance calendar. One of the dates coincides with Rebecca performing, but the other six do not. Brenda is more scared and confused than ever. The evidence appears to be shifting away from Sharon being sick to something she finds much harder to cope with, and she can’t help but feel guilty for praying that Sharon has some sort of medical problem.  
  
 _‘Sharon is not a cheater. She is NOT a cheater.’_ She reminds herself.  _‘She wouldn’t do that to me.’_  
  
Walking back into the living room with the scraps of paper she has found, Brenda sits alone. An hour passes waiting for Sharon, and then two. As afternoon fades into evening and then into night, Brenda’s anger grows with the darkness. She knows, deep down, that she shouldn’t have snooped, but (and here’s another justification) Sharon shouldn’t have put her in a position where she had to ‘investigate’. If Sharon really loved her, there would be no need for any of this, Brenda rationalizes.  
  
When Sharon eventually arrives home she steps into the condo, surprised to find it completely dark. Half-tripping over the shoes Brenda discarded earlier, she reaches for the light switch and presses down, turning it on and jumping as she sees Brenda suddenly illuminated on the couch. “Oh!” she exclaims quietly, jumping. “Brenda, you scared me.”  
  
“Hello,  _Sharon_ ,” Brenda replies coolly. If Sharon was a fly on the wall, she’d think Brenda sounded every bit like a villain from a movie. “Did you have a nice day with Donna?”  
  
Sharon swallows hard, all of the colour draining from her face. She’s been caught.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts to reveal what Sharon has been up to with flashbacks, but you're going to need to read the final chapter if you really want to know what's going on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: What’s Eating Sharon Raydor? - Part 5/6  
> Fandom: The Closer  
> Pairing: Brenda/Sharon  
> Rating: T  
> Summary: When Sharon’s behavior starts to change, Brenda fears she may be losing the one person she can’t live without.  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Brenda, Sharon or The Closer, and I won’t be making any money from this.
> 
> Author's Note: Thank you, as always, to grrriliketigers for being available to bounce ideas off, and to those of you who have commented or sent me messages about Chapter 4. This is the penultimate chapter (I really mean it this time). These final two chapters are longer because they were the logical breaking points in the story. 

**Present Day- Saturday 19th October, 2016**  
Sharon sets her bag down carefully on the side table and takes a few tentative steps towards Brenda. She doesn’t think she has ever seen her girlfriend this mad- at home or at work. Her hands shake a little and Sharon tucks them into her pockets, trying to steady herself.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” Brenda asks her incredulously.

“I… No? Maybe? I don’t know,” the brunette admits, suddenly feeling incredibly unsure of herself. She isn’t mentally or emotionally prepared for this conversation, which is why she’s been putting it off. She doesn’t think she can deal with the fallout. 

“Maybe? You don’t know?” Brenda parrots in disbelief.

Sharon’s eyes drop in shame and, as they do, fall on the items Brenda had found and left on the coffee table. “You went through my things? You had no right to do that, Brenda.”

Brenda gapes at Sharon. “Are you seriously tryin’ to turn this around on me and make me the bad guy? You’re hiding things from me!” she protests. “You’ve been lyin’ about where you’re goin’, you won’t talk to me, you won’t touch me, you barely even look at me!”

“So that gives you the right to invade my privacy?”  

“You’re my girlfriend, you’re not meant to want privacy from me! If you can’t do it in front of me without worrying about how I’ll react then you probably shouldn’t be doing it. You know how I feel about secrets!”

“Brenda, I love you, but that doesn’t give you the right to know every detail of every aspect of my life. It doesn’t work like that for me,” Sharon says in that irritatingly calm voice. She knows it drives Brenda up the wall when they’re fighting and she doesn’t match her in terms of intensity and volume, but she really doesn’t need this to escalate into something that’s going to lead the neighbours making a noise complaint.

“Well it works like that for me!” the blonde yells at her.   Sharon winces slightly. _‘Okay, maybe keeping my voice down isn’t going to work this time.’_

Sharon is no stranger to fighting with Brenda; their professional relationship had started as one big argument and, truth be told, Sharon had enjoyed being challenged by the feisty, intelligent blonde. Hell, if she’s being _really_ honest, she’d gotten off on it. Things have certainly calmed down over time- partially because they realised that part of the tension between them was sexual, and partially because they had found common ground and mutual respect. Now, although they fight less frequently, the intensity of their fights is often greater. More feelings are involved and they are no longer restricted by the bounds of professionalism. Sharon knows, too, that she feels like they can go harder and blow off more steam now, safe in the knowledge that Brenda isn’t going to leave her for it and vice versa. Today, however, maybe be the exception to that rule.

“You dragged me kicking and screaming through being more open and honest with you when we started getting serious, and now you expect me to let it slide with you? The rules only apply to me?” Brenda challenges Sharon.

“I never forced you to tell me every aspect of your life. We both need space and-”

“How much more space could you _possibly_ want from me, Sharon?” Brenda cuts her off. “We haven’t had a serious conversation in almost two months!”

“I know, and I...” Sharon starts before realising she doesn’t know how to continue. She knows that she was wrong, but she also feels like now Brenda is being unreasonable. “Are you saying I don’t deserve secrets anymore?”

“Not about big things,” Brenda tells her, lowering her voice now. “And who says I’m not good at keepin’ secrets? I haven’t told anyone that brunette hair they’re all so crazy about comes out of a bottle.”

“You really want to talk about the carpet not matching the drapes right now? So what, I’m a natural redhead. Sue me!” Cracks are appearing in Sharon’s cool facade, her irritation starting to show. She can’t believe that Brenda has brought up something so ridiculously trivial.

Brenda can’t say she’s familiar with that particular phrase but she can infer its meaning based on the context. She suspects it came from one of Sharon’s children. “Fine. Bigger ones, then. You lie to me. Flat out lie. I know when I’m over-anxious about something you swap my coffee for decaf,” Brenda accuses.

Sharon counts to five in her head before responding, allowing herself time to regain her composure. “That’s hardly the same thing. It’s for your own good, coffee just makes you more on-edge,” she reasons with the younger woman.  

Brenda scrunches up her nose slightly. She found out earlier today that Sharon is right about that. “Fine. What secrets do I keep from you?”

  “I know that when you go for ‘runs’ sometimes you only make it as far as the bakery, eat and come back.” If Brenda is more interested in focusing on petty things right now Sharon isn’t going to push her back in the direction of the conversation she has been trying to avoid.

“I... I...” Brenda stammers indignantly. Sharon isn’t supposed to know about that.

“And this is after you promised me you’d cut back on sugar because it was making you sick. You _swore_ to me that you would take better care of yourself,” Sharon reminds her.

“Well you lied about your weight on your driver’s license. Last time you were the weight you _claim_ to be I was still a virgin!”

Sharon’s jaw drops slightly and she can’t help but pull her cardigan closed, crossing her arms in front of her stomach self-consciously. “So now I’m fat?”

“I didn’t say that!” Brenda protests. _'That woman!'_

“Really? Because I heard ‘old’ and ‘fat’.”

“Is that what this is about? You’re having some sorta…” Brenda waves her hand, gesturing vaguely. “Midlife crisis, so you’re sleeping with some other woman behind my back?”

“You think I’m _cheating_ on you?!”

Brenda isn’t sure she’s ever heard Sharon yell quite like that before, and it stuns her momentarily. She stares at Sharon briefly then storms into the bedroom, returning thirty seconds later with the photograph from Sharon's pocket and the stained shirt she had found earlier.

“Here!” she says, laying them down on the coffee table with the other items. “I don’t want to believe it, and I’m not sure I can, but you look at the evidence and you tell me,” she insists. She grabs the receipts for the florist and holds them up. “Florist receipts. There’s no delivery charge, they’re not all for when Rebecca was performing and they sure as heck weren’t for me. And what’s this?” she asks, showing Sharon the scrap of paper with the name and phone number on it. “Oh, look. _Donna_. Donna, whose number keeps coming up in _these_ ,” she informs her, picking up the phone bills and waving them in the air.

Sharon blinks a few times, too stunned to even know how to respond at this stage. Before she can work it out Brenda continues presenting her with the ‘evidence’ she has found.

“And what about this?” she asks, swapping the pieces of paper for Sharon’s stained shirt and waving it at her. “It smells like…. Like… Like somethin’ that’s not you, and Lord knows what that stain is. Then there’s this,” she adds, grabbing the photograph and thrusting it at Sharon. “Is this Donna? Is this the woman you’ve been… been…” Brenda can hardly even bring herself to say it. “Been _screwing_ ,” the word sounds harsh coming out of her mouth in this context, but she can’t stand the thought that maybe it was something more than that, “while I wait at home worried sick about what’s going on with you and how much longer it’s going to be before I’m out on the street? I know you like them young, but she’s almost young enough to be your daughter, Sharon!”

“She _IS_ my daughter!” Sharon snaps, and Brenda recoils physically, as if she’s been slapped.

“Oh for heaven’s sake! If you’re going to lie to me at least make it believable, Sharon. Don’t insult me. How many meals have I had with Rebecca? How many times has she come to visit? How many times have I seen her perform with you when she’s in LA or gone through pictures she’s emailed you?” She hates Sharon right now. She really, truly hates her. She just keeps piling the lies on and she’s not even trying to be convincing. It’s pathetic.

“Brenda!” Sharon stops her. “Stop talking for thirty seconds and sit down.” Sharon looks exhausted. Terrified, and exhausted.

“Why should I?” Brenda asks her. “I should be packing my bags, not listening to more of your lies.”

“Because!” Sharon insists. “Rebecca is not my _only_ daughter.”

 **Two and a Half Years Ago- February 2014**  
Sharon shifts her food around her plate nervously. Her daughter, Rebecca, had called to tell her she was going to be in LA for a few days, and Sharon had decided that it was time for her to meet Brenda. Things had been going well between them since they started dating, and the timing felt right. What she hadn’t anticipated was the situation in which she currently found herself; sitting between her daughter and her girlfriend while the three of them ate in awkward silence. They had both been polite to begin with, but once they sat down to eat conversation had dwindled and Sharon had yet to hit on a topic that could get things flowing easily between them.

Rebecca, while open-minded, can’t say she’s entirely sure how to react to her mother’s lesbian lover. She didn’t even know her mother _was_ a lesbian until a few months ago… Or is she bisexual now? Either way, she’s not sure if Sharon knew she liked women either and Rebecca doesn’t feel comfortable asking if this is her mother’s first relationship with a member of the same sex. As far as she was aware her mother’s religious beliefs would discourage her from acting on any feelings she had for another woman, so this is all news to her.

Sharon’s Catholicism was something that bothered Brenda when they started seeing each other, too. Brenda couldn’t see how Sharon could subscribe to a religion that condemned their love for each other, and had told Sharon as much one evening when they had both had a long day and just enough wine for the filter between Brenda’s brain and her mouth to only be working intermittently. Sharon had argued with Brenda, telling her that sometimes it just takes the church a little while to catch up with things, and the Catholic church didn’t actually say homosexuality was a _sin_. Brenda, rolling her eyes, countered that there were some things the church just weren’t going to budge on, and Sharon had immediately retorted, telling her pointedly the brunette could say the same thing about herself. The look she had given Brenda made it very clear to her that the conversation was over. From then on they hadn’t discussed it and, on the occasional Sundays Sharon chose to go to church (always alone), there was never a mention from either of them about where the older woman had spent her morning.

“Brenda took me to the Russian ballet for our first date,” Sharon tells Rebecca, finally breaking the silence. _‘Get her to talk about ballet. At least she’ll talk.’_

“Oh, nice,” her daughter smiles. “Sounds like you had my mum pretty well pegged from the start; she’s always loved dancing.”

Brenda shrugs a little and smiles. “I’d seen all the ballet stuff ‘round her place, so I thought it was something she’d enjoy. I got all excited ‘cause  I thought I could show off a bit and translate for her. Nobody told me the Russian ballet wasn’t actually _in_ Russian.”  

When Rebecca doesn’t react, Brenda holds her breath- she thought Rebecca might find her self-deprecating humour endearing; the faux pas had certainly worked magic on her mother. When Sharon had asked Brenda why she was quiet after the show Brenda had admitted her mistake, blushing furiously. In spite of the fact she found it incredibly amusing, Sharon had been kind enough not to laugh at Brenda. Instead, she had found the blonde’s blushing so impossibly adorable that she had initiated their first kiss, right there on the street outside the theatre for all the world to see.

Five solid seconds pass with Rebecca staring at Brenda, an expression on her face that Brenda is sure she’s never seen before. Just as Brenda is about to open her mouth to say something- anything really, to break the silence- the dam bursts and Rebecca breaks out into a loud, infectious laugh that takes over her whole body. The ice has been broken, and from now on she and Brenda are going to get along just fine.

 **Present Day- Saturday 21st October, 2016**  
Brenda waits patiently for Sharon to continue. She can’t wrap her head around what Sharon is saying. Knowing what her relationship is like with Rebecca, and how involved she is in her life, she can’t imagine that Sharon has another daughter that she hasn’t even _mentioned._

“Rebecca isn’t my only daughter,” Sharon repeats, watching Brenda for some sort of reaction. When one isn’t immediately forthcoming she sits down on the couch and reaches out, picking up the photo of the blonde woman Brenda had found in her pocket. She stares at the photograph, getting lost in her own thoughts until Brenda clears her throat quietly. When had she joined Sharon on the couch?

“I met Jack in high school,” Sharon starts, taking a deep breath and setting the photo down to look at Brenda. “He was incredible. He was smart and funny and charming. _God_ , was he charming,” she says, smiling fondly as she thinks back to the way Jack used to be. “He wasn’t captain of the football team or class president, he was just this amazing young man that everyone was drawn to. I thought I’d won the lottery the day he was assigned as my lab partner. Initially we would just study together, but that evolved far more easily than I could have expected into something more. It wasn’t long before we were ‘going steady’, and the boy I liked turned into the boy I loved.”  

Brenda listens to Sharon, wondering what all of this has to do with what’s going on. She’s starting to worry that maybe Sharon has decided to go back to Jack. She has always worried about that on some level, and although she doesn’t normally consider herself the jealous type, she has to admit that it hurts that Sharon won’t divorce him for ‘religious reasons’. She’s always had a tiny twinge of the feeling that perhaps Sharon values her relationship with Jack more than her relationship with her. That still, however, wouldn’t explain who Donna is.

“I was young, I was in love and I was curious... And you’re the last person I have to explain being curious about my sexuality to,” Sharon continues with a nervous smile.

“There’s a difference between me bein’ a middle-aged woman  who’s been married to men- twice- and dated them my whole life and suddenly havin’ feelin’s for you that are confusing and different and unexpected, and that situation,” Brenda points out, her tone absent of any accusation.

“You’re right, there is,” Sharon agrees. “When I talk about my sexuality it isn’t just about my romantic and sexual interest in women, though. To limit it to that is like denying part of who I am.”

Brenda nods in understanding. She’s intimately familiar with the feelings Sharon is describing.

“Like I said, I was in love for the first time, and it felt right to be with him, but I wanted to feel…” she trails off, searching for the right word. “ _More_. I wanted to know what it felt like to be closer and to do things with my body- and his- that I hadn’t done before. Yes, the Catholic guilt was there, but that didn’t stop me from being curious, and you know firsthand that I have never allowed religion to dictate who I love or what makes me feel good.”

“I know. I wouldn’t expect you to,” Brenda assures her before closing her mouth quickly. She hadn’t meant to interrupt again.

Sharon smiles a little, not minding that Brenda had spoken up. The little break gives her a chance to pause, allowing her to collect her thoughts and maintain her composure. She doesn’t want to cry, at least not until she gets this out. “So, we resisted temptation for a while, but eventually- inevitably- we had sex. We did it once and then… Well, we were teenagers, I’m sure you can fill in the rest. Things were going well between us, but a few months after our first time together I started noticing some changes in my body that I wasn’t exactly prepared for. When I realised what was going on I was terrified, and when my parents found out they were so mad and disappointed,” she tells Brenda, starting to tear up for the first time in the story. She clears her throat softly and wipes quickly at her eyes.

Brenda feels like she’s starting to understand where this is going, even if she doesn’t know what it has to do with the past few months. She reaches out and gently takes Sharon’s hand; despite their recent differences she loves Sharon and she can’t stand to see her hurting. She offers her girlfriend a supportive smile and gives her hand an encouraging squeeze, waiting for her to be ready to continue her story.

Sharon takes a shaky breath, smiling weakly back at Brenda before she continues. “Abortion wasn’t an option, and a shotgun wedding at 16- or 17, by that stage- wasn’t going to do anything to change how ashamed my parents were, especially given how far along I was by the time I worked up the courage to tell them. So, as was the case with many young girls in my situation in those days, my parents sent me away ‘to visit relatives out of state’. Of course people knew what that meant, but it was one of those things where everyone just goes along.”

Brenda nods in understanding; while it’s not something she has experienced herself, she has heard about it in the past and knows it was quite common and something which is rarely discussed.

“When I came back my parents acted like it never happened and I just learned to cope with it on my own. There was pointing and whispering for a little while but honestly, I was so emotionally numb by that stage that I couldn’t have cared less. I went back to church and school, as was expected of me, and everything was more or less the same, apart from me feeling this overwhelming sense of... loss. Jack and I kept seeing each other, but my parents insisted that we weren’t left alone anymore. Obviously that changed when we went off to college and they couldn’t chaperone. Jack proposed during our first spring break, we got married the week after I graduated and that was all there was to it. We didn’t talk about it, there was no open mourning. I still, to this day, don’t know how he feels about it. I suspect he was relieved, but then again it wasn’t really _his_ life that got turned upside down and his body that carried our child for nine months, was it?” she asks with a sad smile. “Obviously it affected him, though, she was his daughter too. Sometimes I wonder if it contributed to his drinking, but I try not to dwell on it.”

Sharon looks away for a moment, obviously thinking, before shaking her head slightly and looking back at Brenda. “Anyway, that was the last I heard about my baby until a month ago, when I got the call.”

 **Eight and a Half Weeks Ago- August 24, 2013 9pm**  
Sharon smiles as she sits at her desk, looking at the picture Brenda has just sent her of a pair of shoes she thinks Sharon will like. It’s 9pm on a Wednesday and she’s up to her eyeballs in paperwork, but she picks up the phone anyway and calls Brenda.

“Hi hot stuff,” Brenda grins when she sees Sharon’s number come up.

“Hi yourself,” Sharon replies, a smile forming on her face in spite of her tiredness.

 “Did you get the picture I sent you?”  
   
“I did,” Sharon confirms with a hum. “Very nice.” The shoes are black leather with heels far too high to be practical for work, even in Sharon’s opinion, but a lady’s footwear shouldn’t always be about practicality if she doesn’t want it to be.

“I thought I could buy them and put them away for you for Christmas,” Brenda suggests. She’s always had a bit of a thing for Sharon in high heels.  

“Christmas isn’t for four months…”

“So?” Brenda asks with a shrug that Sharon can’t see. “I think you’d look sexy in them. Your hair all flowin’ around your shoulders, wearin’ one of those expensive suits of yours… Or maybe some thigh high stockings, a naughty little thong and a matching bra to show off your incredible-“

  Sharon shifts, pressing her thighs together firmly. “Brenda,” she cuts her off. “I’m at work.” She’s been working long hours lately and Brenda has been working uncharacteristically late (by her new job’s standards, anyway) as well. Sometimes these things can’t be helped, but that doesn’t stop Sharon wanting to be with her girlfriend, or vice versa.

“So come home,” Brenda encourages, sinking back on the bed and twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she hums enticingly. Sharon can practically hear her grinning. “We can play good cop slutty cop.”

Sharon groans. “Brenda…”

“You can be the Captain and I can be the naughty sergeant who got caught touching herself watching your interview tapes…” Brenda tries, her voice low and her accent thick.

“Oh my god…” Sharon breathes. For all her southern manners, Brenda Leigh Johnson has a downright filthy mind. She licks her lips, trying to form a coherent response. Before she can continue her phone rings and she groans. “Hang on a sec?” she requests, setting her cell phone down and answering the landline. “Captain Raydor.”

Brenda listens intently as Sharon has a conversation on the other line, sighing as her chances of an evening of fun with her girlfriend are stolen from her by the unidentified caller. She can hear her talking about the morgue, and that’s rarely a good sign.

“Are you still there?” Sharon asks when she picks the phone up to talk to Brenda again.

“Yeah. I heard. I know,” she pouts. “You gotta go.”

“I do,” Sharon says apologetically, her cheeks still red and her body still humming pleasantly in anticipation of how she thought she was going to finish her evening. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”

“I know,” Brenda agrees. She’s disappointed, but she knows Sharon can’t help it and she’s sure the brunette will make good on her promise. “Don’t worry about li’l old me. I’m sure I can find some way to get rid of all of this… tension,” she says playfully.

Sharon groans again then laughs quietly. “You’re evil.”

“You love me,” Brenda grins.

“I do,” Sharon tells her sincerely. “So, so much, Brenda Leigh.”  

“I love you too, Sharon,” Brenda replies gently, settling in under the covers.

“Sleep well beautiful. I’ll see you in the morning,” Sharon assures her before hanging up with a sigh. God she loves that woman.

“What have you got for me, Doctor?” Sharon asks as she breezes into the morgue fifteen minutes later. Dr. Morales had called and informed her that he had the results of some tests he had run on Sharon’s victim that she might find surprising. Clearly he is unaware he has just interrupted a very interesting phone call with Brenda.

The medical examiner spins around on his chair, rolling closer to Sharon then standing up and presenting her with a folder. “Tox screen on your vic. Notice anything odd?”

Sharon’s eyes run down the page, taking in the results. “Is that…?”  “Rat poison,” he informs her. “Not a nice way to go. At least you can rule out suicide; your vic had recently had a bikini wax and a spray tan. I’ve heard of wanting to leave a good looking corpse, but I’d say that’s atypical behaviour for a woman who was about to kill herself in such a horrible way.”

Sharon nods her agreement. “Of course. Well, thank you,” she says, closing the folder. “Didn’t you have a blind date tonight?” she asks, suddenly remembering.

“I did,” he grimaces slightly. “Turns out my date had an innie where I was looking for an outie.”

“Oh,” Sharon replies, slightly confused. “Oooh!” She exclaims, her eyes widening as the penny drops. “That must have been awkward. Did whoever was setting you up not know..?”  

“I thought it was obvious,” the M.E. says with a shrug. “Apparently not. And when he kept saying ‘my friend Chris’ I assumed we were on the same page. I offered to buy her dinner anyway but she was just as embarrassed by the whole thing as I was, so we went our separate ways and I thought I may as well come back here and see if your results were ready.”

Sharon offers him a sympathetic look and rests a hand on his arm.

“Anyway,” he sighs. “I’m glad I came back. You’ve got your report now and it’s not like I had anything better to do.”

“I appreciate it,” Sharon tells him sincerely. “Was there anything else?”  

Dr. Morales shakes his head. “Nope, that’s the lot,” he tells her before looking more closely at her.  “You know, I had a Jane Doe come in here the other day who reminded me of you. Pretty thing,” he says casually. “Poor girl got mugged with her four year old son. Looks like she wouldn’t give up her bag so the guy shot her and ran off with it. Thankfully the creep left the kid alone.”

Sharon frowns. She’ll never understand how some people can place so little value on a human life, and to murder someone in front of their child? That’s barbaric. “Any luck with CODIS or AFIS?”

Dr. Morales shakes his head. “No record of her anywhere. They asked the boy what his mother’s name was and he said ‘Mama’,” he looks away quietly. Some cases are harder to deal with than others. “‘Caucasian female, mid to late thirties, answers to ‘Mama’’ isn’t really much to go on,” he tells her. “Now, if only the county would fund the ‘birth mark on your buttocks’ database I suggested…” he smiles, attempting to lighten the mood.

Sharon frowns just a touch. “That poor little boy.”

Morales nods. “He’s in foster care, but apparently nobody’s reported him or the mother missing so he might be in for a long wait there. I don’t know what they’ll do if they can’t find next of kin for her.”

“I don’t know either,” Sharon admits, tucking the folder under her arm. “Right cheek or left?” she asks after a pause.

“Victim’s right,” Dr. Morales tells her, pointing to the spot.

“Sharon?” he asks when she goes quiet.  “Sorry,” she says, snapping out of it. “Thank you for the report. Good luck with your Jane Doe.” She turns on her heel and quickly leaves the morgue.

“Well,” Dr. Morales says out loud to himself. “That was odd.”

Later that night- or early the next morning, to be more precise, Brenda rolls her eyes, pulling the sheet up over her body. Sharon has been tossing and turning since she climbed into bed shortly after midnight and she hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. “Shar? You awake?” she asks her quietly, although she knows the answer.  

“Mmm…”

“Is everythin’ alright?” Brenda yawns, covering her mouth.

“It’s fine,” Sharon assures her. “I can’t sleep. I’m sorry if I’m keeping you awake, I’ll get up.”

Brenda shakes her head a little and rolls over, facing her girlfriend. “Wanna talk about it?” she offers, reaching out to tuck Sharon’s hair behind her ear.

“It’s just a case I was discussing with Dr. Morales earlier. It’s nothing,” she assures her. _‘It’s nothing,_ ’ she repeats in her head. _‘You’re being ridiculous. Just go to sleep.’_

Brenda watches Sharon, trying to gauge how serious she thinks this problem is before she responds. It’s hard to tell in the dark. Taking a chance, she sidles up to her lover and trails a hand lightly down her arm, linking their fingers after she passes over Sharon’s wrist. “I know what’ll take your mind off it,” she suggests gently, running her thumb back and forth across the skin on Sharon’s hand as she brings it to her lips and kisses it. “And it’ll help you sleep.”

Sharon smiles a little. Brenda’s right, a little 'intimacy' as the blonde often calls it usually does work, but she’s just not in the mood and she’s not sure that even Brenda’s usually incredibly effective powers of seduction are going to get her there tonight. She leans in and kisses the younger woman lingeringly on the lips. “I love you,” she tells her. “And usually I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes, but you know what would really make me feel better right now?”

“What?” Brenda asks with an understanding smile. She knows she’s been shot down but she’s secure enough not to take it personally- three years into their relationship and the sex is even better than when they first started seeing each other, but everyone has times where they just don’t feel like it. All she wants is for Sharon to be okay.

“If I could just hold you.”

  Brenda’s smile grows and she shifts closer. “For you,” she tells Sharon, kissing her cheek before turning over so she can be the little spoon. “Anything.”

 **Present Day- Saturday 21st October, 2016**  
Sharon takes a breath, growing quiet and looking out the window. In all of the time she has known Brenda she doesn’t think she has ever seen her this still. The blonde has been sitting, motionless and completely silent, through the story so far.

“So what happened?” Brenda asks, finally breaking her silence. She thinks for a second before the pieces of the puzzle start falling into place. “Don’t tell me Jane Doe…”

Sharon looks at Brenda, her eyes filling with tears, and nods.

“Oh! Sharon, no!” Brenda exclaims quietly, her hand moving up to cover her  mouth in shock. Once her initial surprise passes she moves to wrap her arms around Sharon. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her own eyes filling with tears as her heart breaks for Sharon. “I didn’t know. I am so, so sorry.”

Sharon leans into Brenda’s embrace and buries her face against her shirt. She feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. Brenda knows. She hasn’t run, and now that it’s out in the open Sharon can finally allow herself to feel the grief she’s been bottling up for weeks. She whimpers softly, just once, before her whole body shakes as a loud sob escapes her and the tears come flooding out.

 **Seven Weeks Ago- August 29, 2016- Just after 5pm**  
“You can’t be serious,” Dr. Morales says, crossing his arms.

“I am completely serious,” Sharon informs him. It’s taken her almost a week, but she has weighed her options and built up the courage. She knows what she has to do if she wants to stop obsessing over this.

“I’m not running a DNA test on a Jane Doe because she bears a slight resemblance to you. What are the chances that she’s a familial match and you just haven’t met this long lost cousin or whatever you think she is? You know how expensive those tests are.”

“Daughter,” Sharon informs him matter-of-factly. Best to keep emotions out of this for now. It’s not just the resemblance, but also the birth mark. She knows it’s a long shot but if it will help her stop thinking about it she’ll gladly pay for the test herself.  “What?” Morales asks, confused for a moment. Surely he misheard.

“Daughter. I think she might be my daughter,” Sharon repeats. The estimated age, the physical resemblance, the birth mark on her right buttock. Maybe it’s an outside chance, but Sharon has to know.

“Daughter? Now you’re being ridiculous, Sharon. I think you’d know your own-“  

Sharon cuts him off, holding up her hand, the cordial tone she usually uses with the medical examiner completely gone. “Just run the damn test, Jorge.”

 **Present Day- October 21st, 2016**  
Brenda isn’t sure how long Sharon has been crying, but when she eventually stops she continues to hold her anyway. She can’t imagine what Sharon has been going through, and to suffer alone must have been torture. Thinking back on it, it scares her to think how good Sharon has been at hiding this from her. She feels a pang of guilt for not having realised how bad things were, but then she remembers that Sharon had gone out of her way to keep Brenda from finding out, and they were both trained to suppress their emotions when they were working a case. She’s really not sure how to feel about it at this stage.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Brenda eventually tells her. “You must be exhausted.”

Sharon nods and slowly extracts herself from her girlfriend’s embrace, straightening up. Her mascara has run and she knows she looks terrible.

“You go on ahead. I’ll lock up and I’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” the younger woman assures her. She watches Sharon nod again and walk off before taking a breath. _‘What on earth is going on here?’_ she wonders as she gets up and makes her way through the condo, tidying up the mess from earlier, closing the windows and turning off the lights. When she eventually makes it to the bedroom Sharon is already laying on her side in bed, her face freshly washed. The room is dark except for the light coming from her small bedside lamp, and Brenda leaves it that way as she changes into her pyjamas. When she climbs into bed Sharon looks up at her, exhausted.

“You don’t have to talk anymore tonight if you don’t want to,” Brenda assures her. “You should try to get some sleep.” She has a thousand unanswered questions, but it would be selfish of her to expect Sharon to answer them all right now.

“Don’t you want to know the rest of it?” Sharon asks her quietly.

“I do,” Brenda admits, getting settled laying on her side so she can face Sharon while she talks. “But it can wait.”

Sharon shakes her head as best she can without lifting it off the pillow. “I think I should get this over and done with. You can hate me all at once then.”

 **Seven Weeks Ago- September 2, 2016, 3.34pm**  
Sharon looks up and down the street. It seems safe enough. Plenty of cars and foot traffic, tidy rows of shops. Perhaps not the safest place in the city at night, but certainly not somewhere she would be too concerned about frequenting even then.

“Hey,” she says, catching the attention of a young boy riding past on his bicycle. “How would you like to make $20?” It reminds her of her time as a rookie, back when she was a beat cop. Fitting, really, since that’s the best case scenario for her future if Chief Taylor finds out what she’s up to and why she’s taken the afternoon off.

The kid adjusts his baseball cap and gives Sharon a once-over.

“I’m not asking you to do anything illegal,” Sharon assures him. “All I want you to do is make a phone call. In fact, you’d actually be helping the police.”

The boy narrows his eyes.

“It’s okay,” she promises him. “I’m a police officer,” she says, flashing her badge.

“Then why don’t you tell them yourself?”

“Do you want the money or not?” Sharon knows that calling in a tip with her distinctive voice isn’t going to do anything to help preserve her anonymity. Maybe it’s cowardly, but she doesn’t see how creating a scandal will help solve the case. “If you don’t think you can handle it…”

“No, I got this,” he agrees, thrusting his chin out confidently. “What do you want me to say?”

Sharon hides a triumphant smile. _‘Too easy.’_

She hands the boy a piece of paper containing her daughter’s place and date of birth. “I want you to ask for Detective O'Rourke. Tell him you have an anonymous tip about his unidentified mugging victim, then read him those details.” It’s not a lot of information, but Dr. Morales had confirmed the DNA match the day before and Sharon feels she has an obligation to share what she knows. At least it’s a start.

Five minutes later, the phone call has been made and the boy rides off, $20 richer. Satisfied, Sharon tucks the bouquet of flowers she has under one arm and pulls the file she had copied out of her bag, flipping it open. She examines the Detective’s report again then walks the half block to the spot where the mugging occurred, glancing up an alley.

“What were you doing up here, silly girl?” she asks sadly as she walks a little further, stopping when she finds what looks like leftover blood on the pavement. She glances down at the crime scene photographs to confirm the location then stands in place, staring at the blood for a few minutes without moving. A car backfires and she jumps, almost dropping the folder.

The Captain sighs quietly and leans over, resting the first of what will eventually be several bouquets of flowers up against the side of the building closest to where her daughter died. Until they can locate or rule out a next of kin Sharon doesn’t have a grave to visit. This will have to do.

 **Present Day- October 21, 2016**  
 “So that’s who the flowers were for?” Brenda asks, suddenly feeling awful about the accusations she’s been making. Maybe she didn’t really believe it deep down, but in the heat of the moment she had snapped and accused Sharon of sleeping around on her, when what she really should have been doing was supporting her. _‘You would have supported her,’_ she reminds herself. _‘If she’d let you.’_

Sharon nods. “I didn’t know what else to do. They’re not going to release the body to me, I have no legal rights. Not to mention it’s not my place to make decisions like that; whoever her next of kin is should have her buried in a way that’s in accordance with her wishes. I don’t even know her name, I couldn’t presume to know the first thing about whether or not she’s religious, if she wants to be buried or cremated, what she would want done with the ashes…”  

Brenda nods. “So you wait?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the case. Robbery-Homicide doesn’t seem to hold much hope for finding the person who killed her, but they’re working on trying to find next of kin.”

“At least they’ve got someplace to start,” Brenda encourages. “Thanks to you.” It’s all the reassurance she can offer Sharon at the moment.

Sharon shrugs a little and rubs her eyes tiredly.

“You still haven’t gotten to the bit about why you didn’t tell me,” Brenda points out. “And if you don’t know your daughter’s name then who’s Donna?”

Sharon takes a deep breath and prepares to continue.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This is the final chapter of ‘What’s Eating Sharon Raydor?’. If there is enough interest there will be a sequel, so please let me know if that is something you would like to read. I’m not sure what you thought of the last chapter, not many of you reviewed (although the stats say you’re still reading!), so I really hope you’re still enjoying the story and this chapter ties things up neatly for you. Thanks, as usual, to grrriliketigers for being my sounding board.

**Six and a Half Weeks Ago- September 7th, 2016**  
Sharon walks across the lawn and up to the door of the neat little bungalow, pressing the doorbell. She wipes sweaty palms on her pants while she waits, trying to remember the last time she was this nervous. She doesn’t have long to contemplate before someone opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Captain Raydor,” the woman smiles. “Come on in, I’m Sue Jenkins. Donna called and told me to expect you,” she says as she opens the screen door.  
 Sharon smiles and steps inside. “I am, yes. Did she explain to you what’s going on?”

“She said you were from the police and that you spoke to that nice Detective O'Rourke about coming to have a chat to Jake to see if he could remember anything else about his mother or what happened to her.”

“That’s correct,” Sharon informs her. “I heard about the case and suggested to Detective O'Rourke that since I have experience with juvenile witnesses I might be able to be of some assistance. He told me he’d clear it with Jake’s social worker and… Well, you know the rest,” she smiles.

Sue returns the smile and nods. “I do. Come through, Jakie’s just drawing in the living room,” she tells Sharon. “I feel for him, bless his little heart. I hate to think what it must be like to see that happen to your own mother. He’s such a sweet little boy. Sometimes it’s hard not to get attached when you know they’ll be moving on soon; my husband and I generally only do short-term, emergency placements, but we were happy to hold onto Jake a little longer.”

Sharon nods a little in acknowledgment, her nerves increasing with each step she takes. She follows Sue into the living room and spots a young boy sitting down, scribbling on a piece of paper. ‘Wow. That’s my grandson…’ She is momentarily unable to move, taking in the site of the young boy in front of her.

“Jake? Honey, this is…”  “Sharon,” she tells Sue. “He can call me Sharon.”

“This is Sharon. She’s going to sit with you and talk for a little while, okay?”

“Kay,” the little boy agrees, not looking up from the page as he draws a lopsided square with a blue crayon.

Sharon approaches slowly and sits down on the carpet next to Jake. She can’t say the family resemblance is strong; he’s blonde, and his face is a little rounder than her children’s were at his age, but she would recognise his green eyes anywhere. 

“That’s a great picture,” she compliments him, hoping to break the ice.

“Thanks,” he smiles. “I know.”

Sharon laughs softly at his lack of modesty and takes the blank piece of paper he slides in front of her.

“You draw,” he instructs, looking up at Sharon.

“Okay,” Sharon agrees, picking up a crayon. “I’ll draw.”

 **Present Day- October 21, 2016**  
“You lied to get on an investigation and go and see your grandson?!” Brenda exclaims. “Sharon, do you have any idea how unethical that is?”

Sharon bristles slightly. “Well, yes…”  “Sharon!” Brenda doesn’t know what else to say.

“I couldn’t not meet him,” she tells Brenda. “I never got to have a relationship with his mother and I’ve made peace with that, but when the opportunity arose…”  “It didn’t ‘arise’, you created it. What if this affects the case?” Brenda asks her, and it strikes her as odd that it’s _her_ lecturing _Sharon_ on ethics and telling her she’s breaking the rules. How far she’s come!

“Fine. What would you have done?” Sharon asks, folding her arms defiantly.

Brenda stares back at her silently.

“Exactly,” Sharon says. 

Brenda sighs. There’s no sense lecturing Sharon about it now, the horse has already bolted, and the both know she would have done exactly the same thing if she’d been in Sharon’s situation.

“What was that like?” the blonde eventually asks. “Meeting him.”

“It was… Surreal. He’s an amazing kid, though. Bright, funny, incredibly cheeky,” she grins. “He has my eyes.”

“They’re beautiful eyes,” Brenda tells her gently. “You coulda told me all of this, you know.”

“Probably…” Sharon replies slowly, making a slight face.

“Sharon, what aren’t you telling me?” Brenda asks hesitantly when her girlfriend doesn’t continue. “Why’ve you been sneakin’ around?”

 **Five Weeks Ago- Friday 16th September, 2016**  
“Captain Raydor, take a seat,” Donna says, indicating to one of the chairs she has for guests in her office. She stands up and walks around her desk, sitting in the other visitor’s chair next to Sharon, turning it slightly to face her.

“Thank you,” Sharon says, taking a seat and setting her handbag down. She crosses her legs and looks at the social worker.

“I understand you’ve taken an interest in Jake.” Sue has told Donna that Sharon has visited a few times to speak with Jake and spent a considerable amount of time drawing and playing games with him.  
 “He’s a remarkable little boy,” Sharon replies with a smile, unable to hide her affection for him.

“It sounds very much like your interest in him may extend beyond closing his mother’s murder case,” Donna says, choosing her words carefully.

Sharon nods. She knew this would come up, and she is prepared. In fact, it’s the reason she arranged to meet with Donna. “As you may be aware I have previously acted as a foster parent. There was a material witness in one of our cases; a teenaged boy named Rusty Beck. Rusty was abandoned by his mother and had… “ Sharon pauses, searching for an appropriate word. “‘Difficulties’ settling into other foster homes. He lived with me while he was waiting for the case to go to trial. After the case he stayed with me until he graduated high school and he is currently in college.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about that. Cynthia sent your file over to me,” Donna confirms. “Am I to understand that you are interested in providing a more permanent foster home for Jake?” The arrangements with Sue and her husband were only ever meant to be short term.

Sharon hesitates slightly. She knows that right now she is making a choice. Brenda has been explicit in the past; she does not want children. If she takes Jake in, she will probably lose Brenda, but she can’t turn her back on her own flesh and blood again. Not now, when she has the means to take care of her grandson and her parents can’t force her to do otherwise this time. Not when losing her daughter is something that has torn at her every day since she gave birth to her. “That’s correct.”

“I see.”

“I understand that Jake is settled where he is now, but Sue has informed me that she and her husband are not available to provide ongoing care for Jake. If his next of kin can’t be located he is, eventually, going to have to move on.”

“That’s correct,” Donna confirms. “But a four year old? Really, Captain?”

“Please, call me Sharon.”  “Sharon. A four year old is a big undertaking,” the social worker says seriously.  “It is. I’ve had two of them myself,” Sharon tells her. “But the state of California does not place an age restriction on foster parents, as long as those individuals are able to meet the health and energy requirements for caring for a child. If I can pass the tests required to be fit for active duty for the LAPD I am confident I can care for Jake.”

“You’ve done your homework,” Donna acknowledges- not that she has a reason to believe Sharon wouldn’t have. Based on reports from Cynthia the Captain is efficient and extremely knowledgeable in relation to the rights of foster parents and the children in their care.  “I like to be prepared.”

Donna nods and opens Sharon’s file, glancing through it. “Will Rusty be staying with you when he’s not at school?”

“He does come home, yes,” Sharon confirms. “Rusty, like my biological children, is always welcome. He is my son. He’s part of my family.”

Donna nods, turning the page in Sharon’s file. “It says here you currently live in a two bedroom condo.”

“Space may be an issue,” Sharon concedes, knowing where Donna is going with this. Panicking slightly, without thinking about it, she adds. “But we’ve been considering moving.” It’s out of her mouth before she can stop it.  “We?”

Sharon blanches. ’Shit…’ 

“My partner and I,” she tells the social worker.

“Your partner? I don’t see his details in your file.”  “Her,” Sharon corrects. Now that it’s out of the bag she’s not going to lie about it. ‘I’m not ashamed of Brenda,’ she thinks. ‘And same-sex adoption is allowed in California.’ She mentally admonishes herself for letting her brain skip that far ahead. She knows that if she takes Jake in it’s going to be a solo venture, and she is acutely aware that this may only be temporary, so adoption is completely out of the question. Although, with each day that passes without identifying a next of kin for her grandson Sharon’s chances of keeping him increase. It’s taking a lot of self-control not to get her hopes up.

“Okay…” Donna says, picking up a notepad and pen. “And where is she today?”

“Brenda is at work.”

Donna quirks an eyebrow and starts making notes. Sharon wonders if this is how Brenda used to feel when she was auditing her. “She didn’t think this was important enough to take some time off?” 

Sharon doesn’t respond immediately. She hadn’t anticipated that one. “She doesn’t know about this,” she is forced to admit. She hasn’t thought as far ahead as explaining to the social worker that Brenda might not be in the picture; she doubts that sort of change or instability would be looked upon favourably. 

“Captain… Sharon. This is highly-“

Sharon cuts her off. “I am fully aware that this is an… unconventional approach. There are certainly some obstacles in my way in terms of our current living arrangements, but I wanted to discuss with you whether this was even a possibility before I spoke to Brenda about this. I’m sure you can understand this is a situation that she may find…” she trails off, searching for the words. “The outcome of this is likely to affect her emotionally.” 

Sharon hates herself right now, intentionally choosing to omit the fact that Brenda’s emotional reaction to her taking Jake in would be a negative one rather than a positive one. “I just wanted to make some enquiries and see about getting all of my ducks in a row. I don’t want to risk having her hurt unnecessarily.”

Donna nods, assuming Sharon and Brenda have had their hopes up before only to be let down. “I understand,” she says quietly. “But this is something you are going to need to discuss with her. Take some time to think about whether this is the right thing for both of you, and what it will mean for Rusty when he comes home. Look into your finances and see whether moving is something that’s going to be reasonable for you, keeping in mind that it is likely that this will be a temporary arrangement. We’ll set up a meeting for next week to discuss things further.”  Sharon nods, feeling equal parts relief and dread. The train is now in motion.

 **Present Day- October 21st, 2016- Shortly before midnight**  
Brenda sits up, staring down at Sharon. “You have got to be kidding me!” she yells at her, getting out of bed.

Sharon swallows hard and sits up. Brenda is, understandably, livid. This is what she has been waiting for and attempting to avoid.

“You mean to tell me you’ve been runnin’ around town organising some… some…. What? Secret adoption?” She wishes now that she hadn’t found out what Sharon has been sneaking around doing. From the sounds of things she has not only been visiting her grandson, but arranging custody and potentially looking at real estate.  “It’s not an adoption,” Sharon tells her.

“Oh, well that’s alright then!” Brenda retorts sarcastically, throwing her arms up in the air. “Nobody panic, it’s not an adoption, it’s just selling the condo, packin’ up all of our things and being a foster parent. No big deal!”

“I won’t have to sell the condo, I can rent it out and then rent a bigger place to live in somewhere nearby while I have him. It might only be temporary but I want- no I need this time with him.” She can’t articulate why, or how much this means to her. She never had the opportunity with Jake’s mother, but she feels like this is her second chance. Although she never knew her daughter she did love her and she feels a connection with her grandson. She knows it’s strong; it has to be for her to risk losing Brenda. If she didn’t know better she would think she was losing her mind.

“Oh, you’re an ‘I’ now?” Brenda asks her. “I suppose that shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, apparently you have been for the last two months, I just didn’t know about it.”

“How was I supposed to tell you?” Sharon asks, getting out of bed and walking over to Brenda, hoping she can calm her down at least enough to have a discussion about this.  
 “Don’t!” Brenda says, pulling away when Sharon attempts to touch her arm. “Do _not_ touch me!”

Sharon withdraws her hand quickly, as if she’s been burned. She looks at Brenda, hands twitching slightly as she goes to touch her again on reflex. Stopping herself she searches for pockets and, when she doesn’t find any, clasps her hands together.

Brenda steps past Sharon and grabs her pillow off the bed. “I’m sleepin’ in Rusty’s room,” she tells the older woman. “Unless there’s some secret kid hidden in there.”

Sharon keeps her mouth shut. She feels like she deserved that, and if she’s completely honest with herself she’s just glad Brenda isn’t packing and leaving her on the spot. She waits for Brenda to leave the bedroom then sits on the edge of the bed. She hears Brenda slam the door to Rusty’s room, and then the condo goes silent.

The next morning Sharon makes herself a pot of tea before quietly joining Brenda at the table. Her girlfriend has a mug of coffee and the newspaper so Sharon sits silently for a little while, anxious and unsure of what to say. She knows, though, that they have a lot to discuss, and she is going to have to deal with whatever it is that Brenda is feeling. She also knows that it is up to her to initiate the conversation this time. Surely the fact that Brenda hasn’t left and is just sitting at the table reading the newspaper is a good sign. Isn’t it?

"Bren... Can we talk about last night?" she asks her quietly, her fingers anxiously tracing the rim of the saucer for her untouched tea. 

Brenda looks up from the newspaper and takes a sip of her coffee. "I don't really know what you expect me to say,” she tells her flatly.

Sharon leans forward slightly in her chair, trying to keep her body language open, although all she really wants to do is pretend that none of this ever happened. She hadn’t really expected that response, so she takes a moment to consider. ”You can say whatever you'd like to say. You can tell me you hate me, tell me I'm a bad person, tell me you understand what I did all those years ago... Whatever you're thinking or feeling.” Sharon shifts back a little, her hands seeking pockets in the soft cotton t-shirt and yoga pants she’s wearing. When they fail to find them she rests her hands in her lap.

"I don't think you're a bad person for giving up your daughter," Brenda tells Sharon after a moment. "You were young and scared and you didn't have options. I know I’da been terrified. But you sound like you did what you all thought was best for your daughter. When you were ready to have a family and the responsibility of a child you turned out to be an incredible mother for Ricky and Rebecca."

Sharon waits patiently, picking at imaginary lint on her pants. She doesn’t feel she really deserves praise for her maternal efforts right now, although Brenda is right about one thing; she genuinely felt that the best thing for her daughter was to be with a couple who could care for her in a way Sharon had not been emotionally or financially capable of at that time. That didn’t mean it wasn’t the hardest thing she ever had to do, but she felt- and still feels- like being a good mother is about making sacrifices and hard choices so that your child can have the best life possible. 

When Brenda sees Sharon is waiting for her to continue she tucks her hair behind her ear. ”I'm hardly in a position to judge you for having premarital sex, if that's what you're waiting for. And if you want me to start getting all moral and preachy and pointing the finger I've spent the last three years sleeping with someone else’s wife, so I think that’d be the pot callin’ the kettle black.”

Sharon bites her tongue. They've had the fight about her not divorcing Jack before, and usually she would argue but right now she has a lot of making up to do. Her posture stiffens slightly, but she keeps her mouth firmly closed; Brenda still hasn’t said anything about Jake.

Brenda notices the shift in her girlfriend and knows exactly what she’s thinking this time. ”I'm not going to argue with you about divorcing him again, Sharon," she tells her, taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes. "It's a moot point."

Sharon almost breathes a sigh of relief, but when Brenda tells her it’s a moot point she raises an eyebrow instead. "I don't understand."

Brenda opens her mouth to reply then closes it, shaking her head. ”Sharon, I’ve been up all night. I’m tired and I’m angry and I’m hurt. I can't deal with this right now," she tells her, waving her hands a little. She stands up and tucks her pen between her teeth, scooping up the newspaper and taking her mug before walking off to the living room. 

"Brenda, where are you going?" Sharon asks, standing up and following her. 

Brenda rearranges the mug and the newspaper to free up a hand. She takes the pen out of her mouth and turns to face Sharon. “I told you I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t want to get into it. I need some time.”

“I think we should talk about this,” Sharon presses.

"Oh, _now_ you want to talk?" Brenda asks her. "Don't you think you're about two months too late on that? You’ve had me thinking you were cheatin’ on me or dying or something.”

“Brenda, I wasn’t _sleeping_ with anyone, not even you. You know I wouldn't do that to you,” she assures her. “The last time we were together was the night I found out that Jane Doe was my daughter. I came home and I just needed- you know what, it doesn’t matter what I needed. Since then I’ve been feeling so guilty and confused that sex has been the last thing on my mind.” 

Sharon closes her eyes briefly and pinches the bridge of her nose. “As for talking? I’m trying here, Brenda,” she tells the younger woman as calmly as she can. “I'm trying now. Surely you can understand why I didn't tell you.”

“No, as a matter of fact I’m not sure I do, Sharon. Why don't you explain to me why it is that you think it's okay for you to go sneakin' around, lying to me and completely cutting me out of your life?” She squares her body off and looks at Sharon straight on, challenging her to provide an answer that comes even close to justifying her recent actions.

"Because I was afraid of losing you!" Sharon tells her, starting to get upset. She doesn’t understand how Brenda can’t see that. ”At first it was just about my daughter, who you didn’t know about anyway. Then Jake came into the picture and I have no idea how long I will get to have him- _if_ I get to have him- and if you would consider taking me back after he leaves. You have made it perfectly clear in the past that you never wanted children and there is no way that you ever will. Not to mention the fact that I had no idea how you were going to react to the… circumstances that led me to be in this situation.” Even after all these years she’s not quite sure how to phrase it. Perhaps if it was something she actually discussed with someone she might have known how to articulate it.

"So what? It's better to lie to me and lead me on for two months, lettin’ me love you all this time, when you thought I was going to leave because I didn’t want children?” Brenda’s voice is a mixture of anger and self-pity, laced with just a hint of a whine.

"I don't know. I was scared, Brenda, and I was confused. I'm not saying I did the right thing, I’m saying I did what I felt like I had to do. You don’t know what this is like for me. Wait…” Sharon trails off, taking a moment to think. “Did you say _didn’t_ want? Past tense?” She feels a sudden glimmer of hope. Maybe she can have Brenda _and_ Jake. She has no idea how or when Brenda changed her mind, but if there’s even an outside chance then she’ll take it.

"A lot has changed the past few years, Sharon,” Brenda starts, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. “I... I'm not saying I feel equipped to deal with this. I don't even know if it's something I would want, but I deserve to... No, I have _earned_ the right to be involved in that decision. This was meant to be my life too. My relationship. You didn’t even give me a chance to say yes,” Brenda continues. “You don’t get to make unilateral decisions anymore, not when it comes to something like this. According to you I was either going to end up single or a mother and I don't think I'm being unreasonable expecting to have a say in that."

"You're not," Sharon agrees. "It's not unreasonable. I didn’t even know if it was going to be something I should bring up with you, though. I didn’t know if I’d be allowed to move forward with trying to get custody, or if this is even a good idea. We’ll have to move, I’m not as young as I used to be, and I don’t know if taking this on is the best thing for Jake or if it’s me trying to make up for what I did or assuage my guilt or… I... This brings up a lot of complicated feelings for me, Brenda. It’s not black and white.”

Brenda drops the pen on the coffee table and rests her thumb on her temple and her fingertips on her forehead, doing what she can to massage away the headache that’s rapidly approaching. She’s been up all night working out how to react to all of this, and what it all means for herself, for Sharon and for their relationship. ”I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through, but I know it must be incredibly difficult for you.” She lowers her hand and sets down the newspaper and the coffee mug. “But maybe if you’d talked about this you wouldn’t be so confused. Am I really that unapproachable?”

Sharon shakes her head. “No. Of course not,” she assures her. 

“I would have raised him with you,” Brenda tells Sharon, seriously. “I love you. You were meant to be my partner, and I wanted to be with you and support you through whatever you were going through, but you cut me out of all of this and you didn’t give me a chance. I wouldn’t have asked you to choose.”

“I didn’t choose, though,” Sharon assures her, smiling slightly with relief. “I haven’t made a choice yet. It’s not too late."

Brenda shakes her head, and Sharon realises how exhausted and defeated the younger woman looks. ”Not too late for him, maybe,” she tells the brunette. “But I think it is for us."

Sharon blinks a few times, staring at Brenda. “You can't be serious," she replies in disbelief, the half-smile disappearing as panic starts to set in. “You just said you wanted to support me in whatever I was doing.”

“I want to make it perfectly clear that this isn't about your…” Brenda searches for the right word. Grandson? That doesn’t seem right, although technically it is. “It’s not about the fact that you had another baby, or that you’re thinkin’ about wantin’ Jake to live with you.”

“I don’t understand,” Sharon admits, pulling her sleeves down over her hands a little further and folding her arms in a self-comforting gesture, her heart racing. 

“Maybe I’d have been a terrible mum,” Brenda tells Sharon. “I know it’s not something I wanted in the past and some people might say bein’ maternal doesn’t come naturally to me, but like I said, I’ve changed. I’ve got a new job with more reasonable hours, and I’ve been in a relationship where I felt like nobody was pressurin’ me to choose between my career and my personal life. I might have messed it all up, but I woulda tried, because it’s important to you.” She shifts her weight to her other foot and licks her lips a little. 

“There were a lot of reasons I didn’t want a family with Fritz, and I’m not gonna get into all that now, but I told him the main reason I didn’t want kids of my own was because I see first hand every day what happens when parents lose their children. I was terrified of that, I didn’t think I could handle it at all. You had it forced on you with your daughter, losin’ her, and I never would’ve done anything to be responsible for you going through the same thing with Jake. I would’ve taken the risk for that. The possibility of losing him would’ve been better than you bein’ stuck with the certainty of never having him at all.”

Sharon starts to tear up now and has to wipe quickly at her eyes. She knows Brenda has changed since she first met her, but it hasn’t really struck her exactly how big those changes have been until now.

“But,” Brenda continues before Sharon can respond. “If the last two months have proved anything it's that you don't trust me,” she tells her. “And with the way you've been lying to me- every day, right to my face, makin’ a fool of me- I don’t see how I’m meant trust you. I can’t be with someone like that, Sharon, and you shouldn’t be bringing a child into that kind of a home either.”

"Brenda, no," Sharon pleads, her eyes starting to fill with tears. "I do trust you. I love you."

"Well you've sure got a funny way of showing it,” Brenda replies grimly. Despite the fact she has never been much of a crier, she has no idea how she’s managing to stay so composed. Maybe she’s still in shock over it all.

"I made a mistake,” Sharon protests. “People make mistakes.”

"You made _two months’_ worth of _conscious decisions_. It wasn't a mistake. You don't ‘accidentally’ lie like that."

“What? So that’s it? One problem and you leave?”

“I don’t know how else to deal with this. You don’t treat someone that you love and trust the way you’ve been treatin’ me.” She looks at Sharon sadly then and rubs tiredly at her eyes. “I don’t know if this is something we can fix,” she admits. She knows she needs space and time to think about their relationship and whether or not this is something they can work through. Right now she doesn’t feel like it is, but she knows she’s exhausted and this is still a fresh wound for her. “I’m gonna pack a bag and go stay at the Holiday Inn for a few days. We’ll see how it goes from there.”

Sharon stares at Brenda, unable to believe this is happening to her. She wants to get mad. To yell and scream and tell her that if that’s the attitude she’s going to have then maybe it’s best if she’s not around a child anyway, but she can’t find it in herself to hurt the blonde like that. Despite her lies, Sharon loves Brenda and the reason she had delayed telling her was because she was scared of ending up in this exact situation. Alone.

“Brenda, please,” Sharon says, stepping forward to close the gap between them and resting her hand on her arm gently. “Please. I know I did the wrong thing and I take full responsibility. You can’t just throw three years together away like this. I thought you loved me.”  “I do love you, Sharon,” Brenda tells her, carefully shifting her arm out from under Sharon’s hand. “I love candy, too, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for me.”

Sharon reaches up, wiping at the tears that are slowly trickling down her cheeks. “Please don’t do this,” she whispers.

Brenda shakes her head and leans in, pressing her lips to Sharon’s cheek lingeringly. After a few seconds she pulls back and takes one more long look at Sharon. “I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

Sharon watches Brenda walk into the bedroom to pack and she can feel her heart shattering into a million pieces. She sinks down onto the couch and grabs a cushion, hugging it to her chest as she lets the sobbing take over her body. She knows Brenda said she will think about it, but she can’t help feeling that she is losing her forever.

 **Several hours later- Sunday 22nd October, 2016**  
Sharon is sitting on the park bench watching Jake climb on the jungle gym. Brenda had left, and when she had finally stopped crying Sharon had gotten changed and gone ahead with her original plan to take her grandson to the park today. She’s glad for her sunglasses and their ability to hide her eyes, which are still red and swollen from crying. “Look Sharon!” Jake calls out, waving to her from the slide before letting himself slip down and landing at the bottom.

“That’s great, sweetie. Show me again?” she encourages.

“Hug first!” Jake decides, running over to her.  “Oh, don’t run Jake, be careful of your…” she winces as she sees him trip over his untied shoelace and hit the ground, skinning his knee and both of his hands. Abandoning her coffee she gets up and rushes over to the sobbing boy. “Let me see,” she says, inspecting the wounds to make sure he hasn’t done any serious damage. Confirming they’re only minor abrasions she sits down and marvels at the way he instantly curls up in her lap, hugging her tight. The bond they have formed is stronger than she ever could have hoped for at this early stage.

She brings Jake’s grazed little hand to her lips and kisses it, her free arm wrapping around him to hold him close. “You’re okay,” she assures him soothingly, rocking him slightly as his tears slowly subside. Sharon takes a slow, deep breath and lets it out. “We’re going to be okay.”

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Author’s Note: I hope you have all enjoyed the story. I have loved writing this and hearing from those of you who have left comments/reviews and sent me messages. I feel incredibly lucky to have had so many of you show an interest.
> 
> As I mentioned above, this is the end of ‘What’s Eating Sharon Raydor?’; I feel like the story could stand alone as it is. If you would like to know what happens next, please let me know so I can get to work on the sequel!


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